


The Hangovers of Heroes

by Sher_Indigo



Category: City of Heroes
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, friendships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 04:49:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10914672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sher_Indigo/pseuds/Sher_Indigo
Summary: This is a short (and hopefully amusing!) short piece I wrote for myself and my teaming buddy on CoH. I submit it now as I still have much nostalgia for this great game!





	The Hangovers of Heroes

Even the sunlight that shattered past my eyelids couldn’t persuade me to get out of bed. I was supposed to go and investigate some strange goings-on that Antonio had noticed in some abandoned offices, but I was fairly certain that whatever the villains were up to, they’d still be doing it later. What villain got up before noon anyway? I rolled over, away from the insistent sunlight. 

It was already too late. I was awake enough now to become aware of my hangover. My brain sloshed around my skull, my tongue felt like yesterday’s zombie stains and my fragmented recollection of the latter part of the evening raised my paranoia levels to critical.

My mind’s eye presented me with a robot head, earnestly nodding. I groaned, dragging the pillow over my head in a feeble attempt at halting the procession of memories of last night’s bad behaviour. I’d made some profound connection with a technology fiend that involved much huddling conspiratorially as we discussed the difficulties of clearing mechanical nuisances out of warehouses. Well, that might have been what we talked about. I honestly couldn’t remember. Somewhere in the background my best friend Steven was pounding away on the dance-floor, his mask askew. I thought at that point I was winning our little private contest – I at least was holding a conversation that might lead to “lets go somewhere more private” while he was just dancing. 

My memories blurred and coalesced at a point that might have been minutes or hours later. I was partially deaf in one ear, I think because Steven had just shouted in it that he was leaving. I saw his perfectly coiffed head vanish through the depleting crowd and observed the very tight pair of lycra coated buns that was accompanying him out of the room. Damn him, I ground my teeth. I’d been trying to chat that guy up earlier and somehow Steven scored him merely by throwing himself around the dance-floor. Of course, I could have done the same, but would have had zero success with him anyway. So much for my Gaydar. 

I suddenly wondered why I was investing so much time talking to the robot. I think part of me was hopeful that underneath all the technology was a drop-dead gorgeous hunk but I was beginning to seriously doubt that. I think I was about to remember something truly hideous because my gut dropped and I let out a groan of dismay.

“…and my intestines are now completely replaced with a hyper-efficient polymer tubing arrangement that means I can recycle all my bodily-”

“-Is there any original parts of you remaining?” I judiciously terminated his sentence.

“Some.” He’d declared proudly. “but I’m scheduled to have those replaced as soon as I’ve saved up enough to have the operations.”

“So how do you….ummmm.” I’d had far too many cheap lagers to let this question remain unasked a second longer. “You know… have sex?”

He might have blushed, but it is hard to read facial expressions in a robot. “I bought a state of the art retractable device – it’s supposed to deliver the ultimate pleasure.”

“Supposed to?”

“I haven’t had the opportunity to try it out.”

I glanced dubiously at his groin. I was very drunk, and very desperate but my good sense was clamouring somewhere at the back of my mind attempting to tell me that this was one voyage of sexual discovery that I would most definitely regret in the morning. Besides which I could hear Steven’s laughter as I told him about it in the morning and he would inform me that I had awful taste in men.

I finally reached the moment that my earlier gut-drop had warned me about. The vodka that I’d been merrily knocking back had finally reacted with the lager and my memory hazed to blankness.

I sat up, heart pounding with panic. I couldn’t remember what I’d done after that. I strained my ears and was certain I could hear someone moving around the flat. It was well after dawn so couldn’t possibly be Sabreur, my semi-flatmate. Could it? 

“Sab?” I called out hopefully in a voice that suggested I’d also smoked cigarettes last night. 

I sagged back on the pillows with relief as she gave a grunt of acknowledgement. 

“Is anyone else there?”

I shut my eyes and winced as I heard her draw her sword and barrel from one room to the next as she performed a thorough and hostile search of the flat. I hoped desperately that Mr Robot had gone because if he had been here at all, Sab would have him separated into his component pieces in a second. I giggled at the notion of a pile of nuts and bolts with a “retractable device” resplendent on the top. 

Sabreur burst into my room, her sword held in a firm, expert grip in readiness to disembowel my collection of soft toys. “There is no one else here.” She declared. 

“Good.” Of course, that still told me nothing. I could have performed a lengthy operetta with him and posted myself home afterwards for all I knew.

“Were you expecting an invasion?” Sab’s blade gleamed dangerously in the sunlight.

“No. Just curious.”

She gave me a look that said she thought I was barking. She was three floats short of a cavalcade herself, but this time I felt like the least sane person in the room. She decided that there was nothing fatal about to happen and sheathed the wickedly sharp Samurai blade. Her tail twitched with restless tension.

“I wasn’t expecting you back till later.” I said casually. I usually never saw her at all – she was up and out before dawn every day and didn’t come back until the wee small hours, if at all.

“I returned to update my records.”

“You found some information on your Master?” I couldn’t keep the surprise from my voice. Sabreur had this all-consuming obsession with finding the man who had taught her how to fight with the sword. He’d vanished some years before and the rest of the world doubted that he was to be found. In all likelihood he was dead but the truth I feared was that he just didn’t want Sabreur to find him. But still she was out there day after day scouring the city for some sign of her former mentor.

“The Hellions confessed that they had seen him.”

I rubbed my eyes. The Hellions would confess that they were pink flamingos if it would get rid of the maniacal Sabreur and keep her from dicing them into little bitty pieces. 

“I’m not sure that information would be accurate, Sab.”

“If I gather enough tiny clues then the full picture will emerge – my Master taught me to ignore nothing.”

Her eyes gleamed with the sheer focus of her will that she would some day find this master of hers. I had to admire her determination but she was completely off her rocker.

“Fine.” I muttered and stood up. Water would be a good idea, I thought. Maybe some orange juice. Get some quality time in with the television and maybe think about going to check out that office for Antonio later in the afternoon. That sounded like a plan – keep the actual work postponed for as long as possible. I opened the fridge and stared into it for a while before remembering what it was I wanted. “Do you want some juice?”

“No, I do not need any.”

Of course. I rolled my eyes. She didn’t need to eat, she didn’t need to sleep, she didn’t want anything except to find her master. Her room was so empty that I’d often thought I could let it out to someone else and she would never notice.

I poured out some orange juice and wandered over to the window to look out at the view. The front door shut as Sabreur went off to continue her quest. The flyovers and bridges that were the signature of Skyway tangled off into the misty distance. It was a truly splendid sight from the tenth storey flat but a nightmare to get about easily.

A face appeared at the window and I almost dropped my glass in surprise. It was a familiar face, but it really shouldn’t have been there. I hauled open the window and glared at Steven. “Since when could you fly?”

“I can’t.” He grinned. “I levitated all the way up.”

“Ten storeys?”

“Yes.” He chirped. “It took nearly half an hour.”

I stood aside and he clambered in, immediately spying the orange juice.

“Can I have some? All that levitating has worn me out.”

“You could have taken the stairs like any normal person.” 

“Nobody has ever accused me of being normal, darling.” Since I was slow in moving to the kitchenette to get him some juice, he helped himself. Then it came. “So, what happened to you after I left the club last night? Anything I should know about?” He grinned wickedly.

I grumbled. “It’s a nightmare; I just can’t remember what I did. If I did anything. Oh god.” I buried my face in my hands.

“Scandalous.” He chuckled. “Luckily I remember every delicious detail of my night of debauchery.”

“Good for you. I always know that vodka is a mistake, but somehow I keep on making it.”

“Me too, but I didn’t dare forget a second of The Reverberator.” 

“Was that his name? The Reverberator?”

“No idea what his name was, I just called him that.”

I let out a brief, shocked laugh. “You didn’t even find out what his name was?”

“I hardly talked to him at all other than to say, ‘faster faster’ and ‘oh yes.’”

“He won’t be a permanent fixture in your life then?”

“Perhaps. A few more nights like that and I’ll pay him to stay forever. So Moulinex Man didn’t press your buttons in the end?”

“I don’t think so… but I must say I actually had a morbid fascination about his retractable device.”

“His what?”

I explained and felt deeply satisfied as Steven proceeded to cry with laughter. 

“If only you could remember!” He wailed. 

“I think I’m happy enough with the blur.”

He gradually pulled himself together and grinned. “Whatever floats your boat.” He glanced at the window. “Shall we go out and do something useful now?”

“Sure. I have to investigate some offices for Anthony. They’re supposed to be empty but I’d put money on it that they’re not.”

“They never are, dear, they never are.”

END


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